


Checkmate!

by Owenjones



Series: Good Omens One Shots [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Chess, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owenjones/pseuds/Owenjones
Summary: In which Crowley is a chess nerd for literally centuries, but comes to realize that he isn't actually that good at the game when he plays it with Aziraphale for the first time.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens One Shots [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1453525
Comments: 17
Kudos: 103





	Checkmate!

**Author's Note:**

> Surprisingly, I got inspired to write this after reading the cursed 1992 screenplay...

_This’ll be fun,_ Crowley thought to himself as he set up the chessboard. Aziraphale politely watched as each piece was placed on the correct square. 

Crowley had first encountered the game during a visit to Persia about 800 years earlier. It slipped his mind until he spotted it in a London shop, and remembered all the fun he had during that trip. While Europe was in the middle of a dreary dark age, full of plagues and superstition, the Islamic world was flourishing. It was such a refreshing change of pace from his usual routine temptations.

And while he was there, someone had introduced him to an intellectual pastime with carved ebony and ivory figurines. He had gotten quite good at the game, if he recalled correctly. 

Although, as soon as he picked up the modern version, he remembered that playing against humans tended to get a bit same-y.

He’d tried bringing up the game in Hell, but no one seemed keen on playing it. They called it _boring,_ the bastards! He left Hell with his chess set a little worse for wear: the board covered in scorch marks and mysterious goo, the kings crushed and a few pawns eaten.

By now he realized he needed his Arrangement partner to step up to the mantle as his opponent. He purchased a new chess set and left a note for Aziraphale to stop by their rendezvous point in the park. There, he pulled out the chessboard and introduced it to Aziraphale, placing it on a table between them. Once all the shiny new pieces were in place and after a smug warning that he hadn’t ever lost, he began to explain the rules.

“This is the rook,” he picked up the little castle piece, “It can go in straight lines, forward, backward, either side, for as long as it wants.” 

Aziraphale nodded soberly, his eyes looking over all the pieces as Crowley explained the role of each figure on the board. Rooks, knights, bishops, king and queen all stood in line, waiting for their orders.

Crowley picked up one of the pieces in the center, “She’s the queen. She can move any which way she pleases and for however many squares she wants.” He smirked, “That rule wasn’t there the first time I played this. I wish I had been there when the first chap suggested it.” 

He ended the tutorial by gesturing to the row of small pieces in front of the rest, “And these are all pawns. They’re the most useless because they only go one space. And they can only eat the other pieces diagonally. But the first move they can go two spaces, if you want.”

Aziraphale’s lips moved as though he were repeating the names of each piece under his breath, trying to internalize Crowley’s instructions. 

“You win when your opponent’s king can’t move anywhere, and you lose when your king can’t move anywhere. Got it?”

“Yes, I think so.” 

“Alright, go ahead,” Crowley said.

“Oh no, you go first.”

“Angel, white always goes first.” 

Aziraphale blinked, then spun the board around, “You go first.” 

Crowley smiled to himself, wondering if he should explain how going first gives him an ever so slight advantage. Maybe he would say that after he won, when he was explaining all the fatal errors that Aziraphale had done that led to his defeat. 

Although, he decided he was going to go easy on Aziraphale, for the first time at least. Make him think that he had a chance of winning so that he won’t object to playing again. 

But in the end, he knew who was going to win this match.

So, he went first. Crowley nonchalantly released one of his knights from behind the wall of pawns, settling it near the middle of the board. 

Aziraphale watched for a moment, before stepping one pawn forward, only one space.

“You know you can move it two spaces.”

“I know, dear.” 

Crowley huffed out a small laugh and moved a pawn of his own out of the way so he could advance a few more pieces. Several plans swirled around in his head, in the beginning stages. He began his usual technique, moving his pieces out of hiding, and systematically spreading them across the board. He largely ignored his pawns, only moving them to get them out of the way of the important pieces. 

Aziraphale responded by mostly moving his pawns. Occasionally he moved a knight or a rook, though when he did, the move seemed to serve no strategic purpose that Crowley could figure out. Crowley stared at the cryptic angel across from him, trying to figure out his game. 

Early on, Aziraphale had taken a few of Crowley’s pawns. He didn’t mind so much. The fact that Aziraphale had taken more pieces than Crowley had only bothered him a little bit. He knew that he would overcome him in the end. Losing a little bit in the beginning was all part of the plan to draw Aziraphale into the game. 

In fact, he knew how he was going to get his revenge. 

After a long while of pieces clicking back and forth on the board, Crowley had his trap all set up. His knight was in the line of fire of Aziraphale’s queen; a small sacrifice to pay in order for his bishop to leap in from the sidelines and steal the queen. He watched as Aziraphale’s eyes scanned over the whole board, trying to decipher what was going on in that ethereal brain of his. 

Crowley bit his lip, mentally pleading, _please, please take the knight. Just take the knight. It’s right there, all ready for your queen to take, so just take it--_

“Stop that,” Aziraphale interrupted his thoughts. 

Crowley looked up at him, “What?”

“Stop trying to tempt me,” he said breezily, “It’s not going to work.”

“I’m not!” 

“Don’t lie to me,” and then Aziraphale made his move; he took his knight. With a pawn. 

Crowley let out a groan and took the pawn for retribution. Only, once his bishop was in the spot, it was quickly snatched up by the queen he had been trying to take. 

He tried not to let his defeat get to him. He still had a thousand more plans racing around his head, he still had another knight and another bishop, he still had his victory in sight. 

Back and forth, the two of them played. Each of Crowley’s plans was dashed to bits as Aziraphale never made the move that he wanted him to. His triumph was whittled down as the white army grew more sparse. 

A passerby stopped to comment on the game, patting Crowley on the shoulder, “Eh, not doing so well, there.”

“Shut it,” Crowley said.

The worst part of it was how Aziraphale never seemed to react. While Crowley grew more fidgety in his seat watching his defeat play out in slow motion, Aziraphale’s face remained serious and focused. His brows furrowed as he took several minutes to think out each move. 

Though Aziraphale clearly had the number advantage, Crowley decided he still wouldn’t let him win. He went full-on offensive, setting up cruel traps that left Aziraphale between a rock and a hard place, only able to make moves that led to his pieces being taken. That finally placed a crack in his stony face. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, conceding that Crowley had made a good move. 

As his pieces approached Aziraphale’s side of the board, he began to tremble. He saw his opening. He clacked a piece down onto a square: Crowley’s last remaining knight was one L-shape away from the black king. 

“Checkmate!” he shouted.

Aziraphale peered down at the board, “Well done. I can’t move my king anywhere.”

Crowley’s face lit up as he leaned back in the seat. His pride was secure, his ego soothed. More than that, he’d had more fun with this game than he’d had for ages. He was just about to suggest a rematch when Aziraphale said, “Hold on…”

In one swift move, the knight was taken out of play by a _fucking pawn_. 

Aziraphale sat up straighter, looking far too pleased with himself and said, “Your go.” Crowley slid bonelessly down his chair, nearly slithering under the table.

He reached up and flicked his king over, “I give up. You took all my good pieces.”

“I win, then?” Aziraphale hummed, clearing off the board, “I must say, I rather enjoyed that. We should do this again sometime.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Crowley shot back into his seat, rubbing his hands together, “How about another game right now?”

“Now?” 

“I don’t have anywhere to be. What do you say? Best two out of three?”

“Well…” Aziraphale looked skyward for just a moment, “Alright then.”

Screw going easy on him. Crowley was going to put his all into this game. He snapped his fingers and the pieces were back in their starting position. 

And he lost even worse than the first time. 

“Another game,” he snapped his fingers to reset the board again. 

Aziraphale shook his head, “It’s getting rather late. I ought to be heading back to the bookshop.”

“Come on, one more. Please.”

Aziraphale stood, “Another time, perhaps.” 

Crowley sneered and began packing up the set. As Aziraphale straightened out his waistcoat and bowtie, he said, “You know, you would be much better at this game if you stopped trying to cheat.”

“I wasn’t cheating. Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean that I’ll cheat.”

He hummed and began to walk away, “Whatever you say, dear.”

“Wait,” Crowley stood as well, “What do you mean by that? What was I doing?”

Aziraphale looked back, “Well, you know. You were tempting me to move my pieces such and such ways. I simply moved anywhere you didn’t want me to.”

“I was?” Crowley put his chess set under his arm and reflected. Maybe he was thinking a bit harder than normal, imagining the outcomes of the game a bit more vividly than he should have. Perhaps he accidentally accessed a miracle or two. Though, he wasn’t doing anything different to when he usually played the game. 

He paused a moment at that thought, “Are you saying that the only reason I’m good at this game is that I cheated the whole time?”

“Evil has begot the seeds of its own destruction,” he raised his eyebrow, “As it will always do, in the end.”

“It wasn’t _evil_ , it was an accident,” Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose, “Was I really cheating?”

Aziraphale’s smugness softened to sympathy, “You didn’t know?”

“I thought I was good at it. I thought, look at me: a natural chess player.” 

He didn’t say how personal the pride had been. After Falling for not being very good at his angelic duties, Crowley had discovered he wasn’t very good at demon work either. Early on he’d been passed around each of the circles of hell. No matter what he was told to do, he ended up being too squeamish to perform his job properly. Eventually, head office gave up and assigned him to Earth on a long-term basis, more to get him out of the way than anything else. And while he wasn’t awful at his job there, he was hardly the best.

He shrugged, “It made me feel, I dunno, happy.”

Aziraphale slowly nodded, “Alright, one more game. In my shop, though -- we don’t want to stay out here all night.”

In the back of the shop, Crowley once again set up the board with Aziraphale as black and himself as white. Aziraphale chatted off-handedly all the while, “Do you remember the Reign of Terror?” 

“Sort of hard to forget all those heads flying off. Yeah.” He mimed guillotining his own king before putting it in the right spot.

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale tilted his head in consideration, “If you recall, I was reprimanded for--”

“Too many frivolous miracles. I remember.”

“Exactly. Later on, I figured out that the reason my miracle count was so high was because I had a few accidents, not unlike what you seem to be experiencing.”

Crowley groaned, “Oh, for Satan’s sake, please don’t phrase it like I’ve wet the bed.”

He went on, ignoring the outburst, “I would wish that my cocoa would be hotter, and thus, it would be. I would get a craving for pears, and I would find some stashed in my cupboard. I would hope that some human that I’d met would be having a good day, and they would. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Crowley placed Aziraphale’s last pawn down before looking up expectantly at the angel.

“As the world gets more complicated, there are more things to think about,” advised Aziraphale, “In turn, it takes more effort to prevent our powers from rearing their heads, so to speak. As we play this next game, I want you to relax.”

Crowley was skeptical, “You want me to relax?”

“Take a deep breath,” he gestured to follow along with his breath. The demon indulged him, filling his lungs to their extent then loudly exhaling at the same time he did. “I know we don’t technically need to do that, but it feels rather nice.”

Crowley nodded in agreement.

“Every time you feel yourself starting to go overboard with the thoughts, take a deep breath and hold it for a bit. That should do the trick.”

Crowley wasn’t sure if it was the breath, or the aura of the bookshop, or the fact that he no longer felt the pressure to win, but he was calm and decisive when he made his first move. Aziraphale forged ahead with a move of his own, and they were off. 

Back and forth, the two played, capturing pieces in a near equal amount. Every time Aziraphale would get a vague pull towards a place on the board that would lead to his loss, he advised, “Careful, dear.” To which Crowley would respond with a deep breath and the occultly tug would disappear. 

The tide began to turn. Crowley tried not to panic as he realized that his plans were coming together perfectly. 

He took another pawn just because he could when an opening revealed itself to him. Crowley filled his chest with dusty, bookshop air, trying not to reveal that he had found his path to victory. 

During his turn, Aziraphale pondered silently and then made a move on the other end of the board. A few small glances up at the angel and Crowley decided that he didn't suspect anything. 

Nonchalantly, Crowley set his rook into motion, getting ready for the final showdown. 

Aziraphale responded by moving his knight closer to Crowley -- he would have to keep an eye on that. Obviously the angel had a plan of his own going. Crowley set his pieces in place for the big finale, then sprung the trap. He placed a pawn diagonally from the black king. 

Aziraphale frowned and instinctively tried to capture it to which Crowley said, “Ah, ah,” and pointed to his rook that was standing guard. When Aziraphale tried retreating, Crowley shook his head again, gesturing to the white queen that made sure most of the paths around the king were blocked. 

“Oh,” he said, turning over all the possible moves in his mind, “Oh, I can’t move anywhere.”

“Then… checkmate?” Crowley said cautiously, “Checkmate.”

“Yes. Good show!” 

He let out a breath, “I won.”

“You certainly did.”

Crowley felt a nice warm glow about himself. He was proud! Maybe he was actually good at this game, even without any demonic enhancement. He would have to give this a try with humans again, a proper try.

“You have outplayed me!” Aziraphale said before knocking over his king, perhaps a little too theatrically, “See, what did I tell you? You were much better that time.”

Crowley squinted at him, “Wait a second…”

“Yes?” Aziraphale had a far-too-innocent look on his face as he cleared up the board. A look _that_ suspiciously innocent could only mean one thing…

“You went easy on me!” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aziraphale said, though the tiniest, amused glance at Crowley’s glasses revealed that he knew _exactly_ what he meant. And then the bastard stood and began heading out of the room, “Tea before you go?”

“Hang on! I want a rematch!” 

“I said _one_ game, dear.”

“That one didn’t count and you know it!”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Crowley chased after Aziraphale, who stubbornly never admitted to his plot. After that, they would break out the game board every now and then, either chatting about how it was metaphorical for the struggles between good and evil or just chatting about ducks while they played. Both of them won in almost equal measures, but Crowley always had his suspicions that his wins were merely orchestrated rather than genuine. 

It would take a while, but eventually, Crowley devastatingly, completely, totally crushed Aziraphale in a game that he knew the angel had decided to win. And Aziraphale was so proud.


End file.
